


What We Are

by Anonymous



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Clubbing, M/M, Sibling Incest, Teenagers, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 07:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4129515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor’s back from uni. Loki couldn’t care less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Are

**Author's Note:**

> Loki's 17, Thor's around 20. Also on [tumblr.](http://thorki-trash.tumblr.com/post/121461643222/what-we-are)

Thor’s back.

Loki knows this because there’s more laundry to be done, the food keeps disappearing from the fridge, and sometimes he can’t even walk into the kitchen without bumping into drunken strangers. It annoys him, to say the least; Thor doesn’t seem to care that Loki needs peace and quiet to study.

“High school is nothing,” Thor says. “Wait until you get to Uni.”

And then he laughs (he has a loud, booming laughter) and smiles, and messes up Loki’s hair or slings an arm over his shoulder. After that, he goes to find his friends, forgetting all about his younger brother.

Loki can’t wait until he goes to Uni. Then he will be free.

Thor’s back, so everything goes back to the way it was before: mother and father keep doting on him, how handsome he is, how grown-up. Whatever little time father spends at home, he spends it with Thor. Thor’s the first one mother looks for when she’s about to go shopping or when she needs help gardening.

“I didn’t want to disturb you, Loki,” she says, smiling apologetically. “I know you’re busy. You need to study, don’t you?”

He barely gets out of his room. It’s not like anyone cares when he does.

***

After his last exam, Loki goes on a long walk across the sleepy neighbourhood. His grades are fine, he thinks; better than Thor’s were. Alas, Thor’s best friends are coming for a party this Friday, and even their parents can’t wait to see Sif again.

Well, Loki’s also going to a party. He’s already told his parents that no, he won’t be home for dinner, he’s going out for beer and pizza to celebrate with some of the guys from school. No, you don’t know them. Yes, he will be careful.

They do shots in Amora’s living room, laughing and talking until Loki’s head spins and he feels pleasantly buzzed. Vodka is awful and bitter and makes him shudder; but he chugs it quickly, washes it down with coke or orange juice and asks for more. He has dressed up for the occasion – at least one of Amora’s older friends is eyeing him speculatively. Loki grins and downs another shot.

They take the night bus for the club, away from the quiet suburbs and into more exciting parts of the city. It is a long trip, but Loki doesn’t care; he has a plastic bottle of coke, half-filled with rum. It makes his stomach feel light and gets him more talkative, happier than he has been in ages. And it’s summer all around them, unusually hot for late June. At least he’s not shivering in his ridiculously skanky clothes.

***

He hasn’t expected the club to be this loud. Or this crowded.

He’s overwhelmed at first, losing sight of Amora’s long blond hair near the entrance. He stumbles around, not recognizing anyone during the short flashes of stroboscopic lights. And the music is so loud it’s barely even music anymore. Just mind-numbing noise, timed to make his heart beat wildly and his hips swing on their own accord.

He buys another drink, a Long Island, and drowns it at the bar. Then he goes dancing.

It’s easier not to think. He lets the rhythm carry him, primal and frantic and yet oddly hypnotizing. Does he look ridiculous? Probably. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care.

Near the stage, he feels someone’s hands on his waist. He freezes, momentarily, but then again – why not?

The stranger gets bolder when Loki resumes dancing. The hands slide down to Loki’s hips and then lower, palming his ass. Loki flushes with heat at that. He’s not sure if he likes it but alcohol has made him bold, and this stranger wants him, so damn it all.

He wishes Thor could see him right now.

That is, until he feels alcohol-stained breath and hot lips seeking his own. He kisses back, out of curiosity; but this is going too far. The guy is pulling him towards the bathroom and Loki thinks it wouldn’t be wise to follow.

He goes back into the throng of people, hoping the guy will move on and won’t come looking for him. But the memory is lost; there’s too much going on, too much  _life_ around him for Loki to dwell on that. Again he dances, lost and free.

The next person that touches him – well – Loki lets them. The hands are bigger, and he feels solid muscle behind his back. And arm winds around his middle, proprietary and sure. Loki knows his ass is rubbing against the stranger’s crotch with each roll of his hips; and he feels hardness, something that might be an erection. It’s exhilarating, to know that he has this effect on someone.

They dance. They dance, and the stranger holds him, his breath brushing against the nape of Loki’s neck, his hands directing Loki’s movements. Loki closes his eyes and leans back his head, resting it on a muscular shoulder, and  _feels_. The man’s hand slides over his stomach, his chest, his thighs; damp lips ghost over Loki’s neck. There’s something in the way he’s holding Loki, as if Loki was important somehow, and worthy of careful attention; but he’s not going too far. He’s not rubbing his hand against Loki’s crotch, even though Loki thinks he might want him to.

He could stay like this, forever. The noise and the crowd don’t bother him anymore.

***

When he wakes up on Saturday afternoon – well, he dearly wishes he hasn’t.

Parents are furious. Loki bears father’s lecture and mother’s disappointment with barely a flinch, too busy trying to ignore his throbbing headache and the taste of bile in his mouth.

He finds Thor afterwards, pissed off beyond measure.

“I’m grounded,” he announces, walking into the basement gym. “Can you imagine?”

Thor spares him a short glance. He’s wearing nothing but red shorts and boxing gloves, raining down a furious storm of blows and kicks on the punching bag as if it has done him great personal injury.

“Yes, I can,” Thor says. Sweat is glowing on each impressive muscle and his face is red with exertion. “You got home drunk at three in the morning, of course parents are mad.”

His bare feet dance nimbly on the floor. He lays down three more blows in quick succession, each one landing with a muffled “oomph”.

“You got back later than that,” Loki says.

“I’m older.”

“So what?” Loki stares at Thor’s back. Beyond the initial glare, Thor seems uninterested in looking at Loki at all.

How typical.

“Do you even remember  _how_ you got back?” Thor asks.

“Of course,” Loki says. “Fandral drove me home.”

He doesn’t know why Fandral was there at all. In truth he doesn’t actually remember  _anything_ about the trip, he just knows what mother told him with tight-lipped fury. Apparently he was so drunk he couldn’t even walk properly; Fandral had to steer him down the gravel pathway, all the way to their front door.

Thor keeps pummelling the punching bag. Loki has missed watching him do that. He’s so focused, quick and light for someone so large, each blow landing with precision and strength. But there’s tension in his muscled back that Loki’s unused to.

“How was your thing?” he asks.

“Fine,” Thor says and aims a kick that would probably break Loki in half, had he been the one standing there.

“What did you do?” Loki prompts him. Normally he’s too proud to force his company on Thor when he obviously doesn’t care, but Thor’s angry and Loki wants to know  _why_.

“We had dinner and then went to a club,” Thor says. “Which is where Fandral found you. Damned lucky you were, too. Do you even realize what could have happened?”

Yes, Loki realizes. He could have stayed in that guy’s arms, where he was wanted; not here, bearing his brother’s scornful pity.

“What’s it to you?” Loki asks sharply.

Thor doesn’t answer. His punches turn truly violent now; he’s not moving his feet either, even though he has once told Loki how important it was to never stay still.

“Were you at the club, too?” Loki says to Thor’s back.

Again, he’s met with a weighty silence. Then Thor grunts out a crisp, “Yes.”

He’s not that much taller than Loki. But he’s wider and sturdier, so that he easily dwarfs his little brother. This is just one of the many, many things Loki has always hated about Thor.

“Thor,” he says, quietly. He knows he’s heard because of the way Thor tenses. “I know that was you.”

Thor freezes. And then—then he finally turns around, horror-struck and deathly pale. Loki might find that amusing if his mouth hasn’t gone completely dry.

He stays right where he is, feigning confidence he does not feel. “Did you know it was me, by the way? Or do you randomly grope teenaged boys at the club?” A malicious grin stretches his mouth. “Does father know about  _that_?”

“Loki—” Thor says. And it’s so beautiful – he is completely and utterly in Loki’s power right now.

“Would you have fucked me in the bathroom stall?” Loki continues. “Would that make you happy, _brother_?”

He can pinpoint the exact moment Thor breaks down. His face is a mixture of raw, ugly emotions – guilt, regret, fury. But also – and the realization steals Loki’s breath away – a deep longing.

Flush rises in his cheeks. He’s not used to having Thor’s undivided attention, not for many years now. And whenever he has it, it’s plagued by the lingering doubts that Thor, like everyone else, will find him lacking.

But the man at the club didn’t. He put his hands on Loki’s body as it meant something to him. He touched and held him in a way Loki didn’t know he could be touched and held.

“How did you know?” Thor asks. His voice is rough and broken.

Loki laughs at him. “I  _didn’t_ , you idiot. Well,” and he shoots Thor a smirk before leaving. “Not until now.”

It’s a small victory.

***

Their parents are gone for the night. Loki  _could_ sneak out – but in truth, he has no reason to. He doesn’t particularly care for Amora or her friends anyway.

No, he stays in bed and reads until the novel gets too boringly predictable. Then he turns off the light and opens the window wide, to let in some fresh air. It’s getting stuffy and hot. Plus he likes being woken up by the singing birds at 4 a.m. – he can look at the sky and daydream, sprawled on the bed and with the happy certainty that he won’t have to be nice to anyone for a couple more hours.

But for now, it’s pitch-black and quiet.

He hears the creaking of the floor board before the metallic clink of the door handle being turned. And he doesn’t react at all – not when the door opens in near silence. Not when somebody walks in.

He’s not sure what he should do. Pretend to be asleep, perhaps. The footsteps come closer to his bed – and then Thor is sitting down. His hand (the one Loki knows so well now) brushes Loki’s hair from his forehead.

Thor doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t speak at all when he lies down next to Loki and slips beneath the covers. And Loki keeps his eyes shut and tries not to react, not even when Thor leans over to kiss him on the mouth.

He hasn’t been kissed before. Not properly. Not with any kind of sincerity. And is it any surprise that Thor should be good at this, too? His lips are soft and warm, coaxing Loki’s mouth open; his hands hold Loki’s head in place. A lazy, honey-sweet feeling overcomes Loki, gets him to lie still when Thor runs his other hand down his chest.

Thor’s fingers play with his nipples. And, okay, Loki has watched plenty of porn but his nipples have never seemed particularly sensitive under his own touch. But now, a few seconds of attention from Thor and he’s choking back a moan.

The rule is to stay silent. Thor’s mouth swallows the sound he makes, but Loki can’t help it; he’s hopelessly turned on, harder than he’s ever been. Thor’s weight settles on top of him, immobilizing; he smells of clean sweat and soap, his hair still damp from the shower. And then his lips are on Loki’s neck, first in shaky, damp breaths while Thor shimmies out of his boxers. But then it’s a proper, open-mouthed kiss, lapping on Loki’s skin and scraping his teeth with a tiny pinprick of pain that sets Loki’s nerves on fire.

He feels the length of Thor’s bare cock on his abdomen. It seems so big, impossibly hard; he wonders if Thor will fuck him with it. And Loki knows, deep in his bones, that he will let him without a fight; he will spread his legs for Thor, he will drop down on his knees if that’s what Thor wants, he will do _anything_ if—

“Ah!” he gasps. Thor bites down on his neck, and then thrusts down, his cock pushing between Loki’s thighs. He’s jerking off one-handed, the other one coming up to clamp around Loki’s mouth.

“Don’t,” he says, roughly.

Loki could weep for how good it feels, to have Thor’s large hand gagging him. He licks it experimentally and receives a sharp hiss in return; then Thor thrusts harder, rubbing himself all over Loki’s body. Loki wants to touch him, put his hand on this golden perfection and, and taint it somehow, the way he taints everything else; but he cannot. His hands tremble. His muscles are so weak, so helpless; he can only arch up into Thor, wordlessly inviting him to move faster.

He’s lost. He’s falling, with only Thor’s body to ground him. Thor’s cock slides on his stomach, wet and slick at the tip. Thor’s hand, the one he’s jerking himself with, keeps digging into Loki’s skin with each hurried motion. And Loki wants to do something, wrap his legs around Thor’s waist, but he can’t.

Thor cries out. Hot, sticky come lands on Loki’s stomach, and he shudders violently. Another spurt joins it, painting his skin; Thor shifts for a second more, rubbing himself on Loki, as if Loki was there just for Thor’s pleasure.

When Loki next hears Thor’s voice, it’s wet and broken, murmured right into his ear.

“Look what you’ve done to me,” Thor says wretchedly. “Look what you made me do…”

Loki says nothing. But he licks up at Thor’s fingers and holds his gaze, letting him know that no, it’s all right. It’s a pathetic weakness of his, but Thor’s here,  _with him_ , Thor wants him and—

Thor kisses down his chest, letting go of Loki’s mouth to hold his hips in place. Loki arches up, choking on a sob when a hot mouth engulfs his cock. He knows – he knows it’s not about his pleasure. Thor’s trying to assuage his own guilt by doing this to Loki, getting him off like he got himself off. And he’s good at this. He’s clearly had practice.

“I want you,” he thinks he can hear Thor say when Loki’s cock slips from his mouth. “I’ve wanted you so badly…”

Well. It’s Thor. He always gets what he wants. And now he’s using Loki, taking him apart, taking his fill of pleasure and then taking even this in return – taking, taking,  _taking_ —

And, oh – how Loki loves him for it.


End file.
